Kira left about 20mins ago without a goodbye, without a look back, just a flash of her bare thigh as she turned and walked off into the dark, muttering something about "wasting time."
Selene hadn't said a word the entire ride back. That was the part that gnawed at Cal the most.
She'd been there. Standing off to the side in that abandoned site like some elegant, seductive statue while Kira flung him around like a chew toy. Cal had stolen more glances at Selene than he had thrown punches or try to use his powers —though both were equally ineffective.
Now, back home, the silence felt like a sentence. Like a judge was drawing out the pause before the gavel came down. Cal sat hunched on the edge of his bed, shirt clinging to his sweat-drenched skin, arms still sore from where he hit the ground. Again. And again.
Selene leaned casually against the windowsill, her arms folded beneath her chest, pushing her already impressive cleavage up a bit more—not that she needed the help. Her eyes were half-lidded, thoughtful. Or disappointed. Or maybe she was just bored.
It stung more than he wanted to admit. He clenched his fists and let out a long breath, trying to push away the growing frustration coiling in his chest.
He hadn't just failed. He'd looked pathetic. Kira's movements had been fast—too fast for the eye to follow. One second she stood beside him, the next she was twenty feet away, kicking through the rusted hull of an old storage container like it was cardboard. The sound still echoed in his ears.
Strength and speed. That was her game.
And Cal? Cal had a power he couldn't even touch, let alone use.
He had thought maybe, just maybe, he could call something again. A weapon. A rock. A nail. Anything. But when he'd tried—focused with all his might—nothing had happened. Just the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and Kira's bored expression drilling into his skull.
"I don't even think you have an abilities" she'd scoffed before leaving. "You're wasting everyone's time."
Cal squeezed his eyes shut. That stung again.
He sat there in the silence, stewing in his thoughts until the wind shifted. A soft breeze danced past him—and with it came a familiar scent.
Perfume. Warm. Sweet. Hints of spice.
"God, you're dramatic," she said, breaking the silence; heels clicking against the concrete as she walked toward him. Her coat fluttered behind her, and under it, she wore little more than a fitted corset and high-slit leather skirt. Cleavage unapologetically on display. Curves wrapped in black like sin given form.
Cal swallowed, already trying not to stare. Again.
"This is your first attempt at trying to understand your abilities ," she said, crossing her arms—lifting her chest even more. " and Kira can be… rough."
"She's a bitch," Cal muttered
Selene raised an eyebrow. "She's also a ranked Arbiter. One of the lower ones, sure, but she's been in fights you couldn't imagine."
"She barely looked at me," Cal said. "Like I wasn't worth her time."
"Maybe you weren't." Her tone was casual. Cruel, even.
He looked up at her sharply.
She crouched in front of him, eye-level now. "But that's not her fault. Power isn't given. It's used. You haven't learned how."
"I'm trying."
"Trying isn't enough," she said. "Not in this world."
He looked away.
"Want to know what your problem is?" Selene asked.
"Not really."
"Tough." She stood again. "You keep thinking this thing—your ability—will come when you call. Like some loyal dog."
She leaned in close, voice low.
"It won't. Powers are wild. They come from instinct, impulse, emotion. And right now? You're trying to tame a beast you haven't even named."
Cal looked at his hands. "Then how do I name it?"
Selene stared at him for a long moment, then gestured for him to stand. "Come on."
He hesitated, then got up.
She led him across the lot to a pile of scrap metal and busted crates. "Focus on one thing," she said, stopping. "Visualize something you want. Desperately. Pull that image into your head, drown in it. Then—reach."
Cal furrowed his brow. "That's your advice?"
"Worked for me," she said with a sly grin. "Though what I wanted at your age was probably illegal in several countries."
He tried not to picture it. Failed.
He turned to the pile of books in front of him and shut his eyes.
"Alright… want something," he whispered. "Reach."
The image came unbidden—Becky's face, the curve of her body, that moment she'd thanked him. Then the bullies. The bat.
The rush.
The feeling.
His pulse quickened.
And suddenly, there was a sharp tug in his chest. His eyes flew open and a certain type of adult magazine from the pile of books flew into his grasps.
Selene raised an eyebrow.
Cal stared at it, stunned. "I… I didn't move. I didn't say anything."
"But you wanted it," Selene said. "That's your core."
She stepped forward and picked up the magazine, handing it to him. "You didn't summon it. You didn't conjure it. You tried to take it."
Cal blinked. "I did?"
"Don't think like a conjurer," she said. "You're not making things appear. You're taking them. That's what happened the night with Becky. You pulled the bat out of someone else's grip—stole it from them, even across space."
He stared at the magazine. "That's insane."
"It's you."
Her words stuck with him. He felt something click inside. Like a puzzle piece falling into place.
"But I still can't control it," he said.
"Yet," Selene corrected. "But you will. We're going to train. Properly."
He nodded.
Then hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"
Her smile softened, just for a second. "Because someone helped me once. And because whether you realize it or not, Cal Everene—you're already dangerous."
She turned on her heel. "Now get some rest. We will continue this soon. And next time?"
She winked.
"Try not to ogle your sparring partner's tits mid-fight."
Cal flushed. "That was one time—!"
Selene disappeared into the night.
—
The next day at school came too fast. Cal moved through the halls like a ghost. Still reeling from the breakthrough—but trying not to show it. As far as anyone else knew, he was just another kid. Just a nobody. And maybe that was good.
The fewer eyes on him, the better. Except for one.
Becky.
She found him at lunch. Tray in hand. Tight jeans again. Her top hugged her chest in ways that made concentration a Herculean effort.
"You didn't show up to homeroom," she said, sliding into the seat across from him without asking.
"I had stuff," he said, trying to act cool.
"You're weird lately."
"I'm always weird."
She tilted her head. "You okay?"
He paused. "Yeah."
She didn't believe him. But she didn't press either.
A beat of silence passed She smiled faintly. Then nodded and stood up.
"See you around, Cal."
He watched her walk away. Every sway.
Every step. Maybe his life was changing. Just not in the way he expected.
—
That night, he sat at his desk, scribbling into a notebook. Notes on what happened. What he felt. Trying to define it.
But only one phrase kept echoing in his head.
I didn't summon it. I took it.
I stole it.
And in that thought… was the beginning of control.